


nothing strung below us baby (if we fall)

by ThisUsernameTaken



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Drabble, Figurative Language, Gen, Light Angst, My First Work in This Fandom, Pre-Slash, Short, canon where lol, i guess, of a sort, prolly should've put that first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 08:37:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisUsernameTaken/pseuds/ThisUsernameTaken
Summary: They've the wind at their backs and nothing below, and he thinks, fleetingly, vaguely, finally, that somehow, it's always been this way.--





	nothing strung below us baby (if we fall)

**Author's Note:**

> yanno, for something that took a solid fifteen minutes, i'd expect it to be longer.

They've the wind at their backs and nothing below, and the shadows of the night drapes the scene a right proper maudlin.   
  
To go forward is certain suicide. There is no plausible left nor right.   
  
Their only option is back, and back and back, until their feet meet empty air and they stagger forward, teetering between bullets and the crashing waves.  
  
They've the wind at their backs and nothing below, and should this be their end, he found nothing in lacking.  
  
They've the wind at their backs and nothing below, and he thinks, fleetingly, vaguely, finally, that it's somehow always been this way.  
  
It's always been this way with him. always been this way with him- Holmes- _S_ _herlock-_  and should this be their end, he'd do it if only their fingers laced together.  
  
It does, they do, and bloodied gloves in hand, Holmes gives one last look to their pursuers, another to Watson, and with a final squeeze, they fall.   
  
They've the wind at their backs and nothing below. It's not that bad, Watson thinks, as the rush of air screams past their ears and flaps about their clothing. it's not that bad, Watson thinks, as the darkness swallows the shrieks in their throat.  
It's not that bad, Watson thinks, as they fall, and fall, and fall.  
  
They're anchored to the other; the only solid thing in this entire wretched affair.   
  
And somehow, somehow, it's always been this way.


End file.
